


If You Can't Stand the Heat, Get Out of the Lab

by GloriaVictoria



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Casual Sex, Clothed Sex, Couch Sex, Frottage, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 01:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaVictoria/pseuds/GloriaVictoria
Summary: The AC busts a week after Hermann and Newt find themselves stationed in Sydney, on the hottest day of the year. They take some clothes off and get nasty. Just another PWP smutfic.





	If You Can't Stand the Heat, Get Out of the Lab

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feriowind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feriowind/gifts).



> FerioWind inspired part of this fic with their art of Hermann wearing sock garters, so thanks very much for that. I gift this fic to you, humbly, as thanks for the years of quality Newmann art. 
> 
> I wrote lots of sad shit lately, so here's some pointless sex. Enjoy.

In the seven years he’d worked for the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps, Newton Geiszler had found himself stationed all along the Pacific Rim -- that’s what happened when you held the title of “foremost Kaiju expert”. He and his partner, Hermann Gottlieb, had spent several months in Lima, a short stint in Tokyo that he’d spent much of accumulating rare anime paraphernalia, and a solid two years in LA. He didn’t think they could ever send him somewhere worse than Anchorage, where he and Hermann had spent the winter of 2020 freezing their entire asses off; Hermann had gotten into the habit of wearing his stupid parka that year. He'd thought that they'd reached the pinnacle of suffering in that winter wasteland, until the Powers That Be sent them to Sydney. Exactly one week later, the climate control system malfunctioned during what turned out to be the hottest summer in recorded history.

Nah.  _ This _ shit blew Anchorage so far out of the water, it had entered planetary orbit.

Newt drug himself out of his cold shower and into his clothes reluctantly, regretting his decision to bring nothing but black jeans and Doc Martens to Australia with him. Normally, they worked fine -- how the fuck could he have known that Satan would curse their air conditioner? Just  _ like _ Australia. Besides, he wouldn’t have packed summer clothes anyway. The ocean wasn’t really his favorite vacation spot, even before the giant monsters had started crawling out of it. He also had a  _ look  _ to maintain, but as he stood slurping his breaths from the air like tepid bathwater, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about his personal aesthetic.The space around him seethed with heat, bearing down on him with a heaviness that threatened to push him right into the earth. 

Unfortunately, the technicians in charge of maintenance repair had all gone into the city to help with reconstruction efforts, leaving everyone else to suffer. He trudged to the laboratory with a bottle of frozen water in one hand and his messenger bag in the other, thanking the heavens that his mini-fridge had a little freezer up top. Normally, he’d sling ithe bag over his shoulder, but he couldn’t afford the extra weight and heat on his body.

When he arrived, he saw that Hermann had beaten him there. He sat quietly at his workspace, an uncomfortable expression on his face.  Somehow, he’d convinced himself it’d be a good idea to wear his normal clothes, complete with sweater vest and tie. How the bastard hadn’t died of heat exhaustion was anybody’s guess. He clearly wanted to give off the impression that the temperature unfazed him, and Newt had to give him credit: on the surface, he seemed no more irritated and stodgy than any other day. However, upon closer inspection Newt could see the heat’s effects taking hold. A thin sheen of sweat, barely imperceptible, glossed Hermann’s forehead, and the ends of his hair curled slightly from the dampness. Newt didn’t even know Hermann’s hair curled -- he kept it so damn short.

“Mornin, sunshine.” Newt teased, flicking Hermann on the nose, which earned him a shove.”

“Newton, _ please _ . Today of all days, I really must insist that you follow my  _ clear expectations  _ regarding personal space--”

“Yeah, yeah.” Newt responded, flippantly waving Hermann away. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Hermann snorted. “Considering I have to repeat most of my requests daily -- oh, to Hell with it. It’s too bloody hot in here to waste my breath arguing with you over trivialities.” 

Newt laughed and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling them to the elbows of his tattooed forearms. “Call the presses, Hermann. We’ve finally agreed on something.” 

“Truly shocking. I'm certain it won't happen again.” He snapped back before returning to his work with a haughty “hmph”.

The air settled into a peaceful silence, both of them working diligently on their respective projects. Hermann had ascended his rolling ladder to toil away at his formulas, while Newt had pulled up the digital imaging software he'd designed in the event that working with physical samples proved impossible. The Kaiju parts he normally worked with couldn’t withstand hot temperatures without breaking down, so he defaulted to his models instead, as much cleaner and more boring alternative. Between the heat and the lack of stimulation, he felt as if he’d fall asleep and never wake up. Sweat had begun rolling down his forehead, and his cheeks burned to the touch. He grabbed his water bottle and rushed to the emergency shower station, unscrewing the cap and dumping all of what had melted directly onto his head, leaning over the drain.

“Please don’t make a mess, Newton.” Hermann muttered from his ladder, and Newt laughed, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

“Man, you’re just jealous because you didn’t think of it. Even if you did, you'd never...” When he turned to face Hermann, whatever jibe he'd planned vanished from his mind. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, mouth hanging open and slack. “Huhhh…”

Unbelievably, Hermann had taken off his sweater vest. 

Newton could not remember a time he’d ever seen Hermann Gottlieb in less than three layers, and quite often he wore four or five. He made it a point to hide nearly every inch of skin, buttoning himself up so tight Newt wondered how he could breathe on a  _ normal  _ day, let alone one in Hell's asshole. Now, he stood in nothing but his light blue button-down, which clung to his arms and back so that Newt could see the curve of Hermann’s waist and the outline of his undershirt. Hermann pushed his hair back and heaved a sigh of relief, folding his vest and placing it on his desk. Newt whipped back around quickly when Hermann turned, busying himself with wringing out his shirt until Hermann climbed back up the ladder to continue scribbling on his chalkboard. 

Newt tried valiantly to get back to work himself, but as he stared at his computer screen, the urge to stare at Hermann picked at him, beckoned him to turn around. It was just so weird, seeing him dressed almost like a normal human being! He could scarcely believe that Hermann had actually allowed himself comfort; Newt swore he had to have some kind of masochistic streak. 

...One more look. You know. For science. 

Newt slung his arm over the back of his seat and looked over his shoulder. Hermann hadn’t moved from his spot on the ladder, but as he watched him work, Newt saw him swipe his arm over his forehead. He began composing an experiment in his mind: how many articles of clothing would Hermann alter or remove before he left the lab? Before he could form a hypothesis, Hermann climbed down the ladder and turned, meeting Newt’s gaze.

“I beg your pardon, Newton. Can I help you?” Hermann glared, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to hide himself from Newt.

“Dude, seriously? You’re wearing a  _ shirt _ , you’re not naked, for God’s sake!” Hermann’s cheeks flushed and he shoved his hands into his pockets instead. Newt snorted. “You’re so weird.” Hermann rolled his eyes and settled himself in his chair, pulling out a variety of folders and books from his desk drawers and adjusting his glasses. “What are you up to, Herms?”

“Preparing projection models for the next Breach event.”

“On paper? For real?” Newt laughed. “You're so old.”

Hermann’s jaw worked around a response for a moment, and Newt could more clearly see the wetness shining on his skin. Something in his gut tightened. “I always begin my work on paper, Newton. It’s much easier to flesh out a concept with a physical anchor, something to touch and mark.” Newton’s attention had wandered far past Hermann’s answer, his eyes traveling to the curls framing his face. They’d grown more unruly as the morning progressed, one following the curve of Hermann’s ear, another sticking up like a cowlick, giving him a boyish look. The idea of touching and marking sounded very appealing right about now. “Newton! Are you listening to me?”

“Am I ever?” Newt grinned, and Hermann threw his hands up in the air, shaking his head.

“Why do I bother trying to talk to you?” He took a long, slow breath and let it out before laying out a wide sheet of industrial graphing paper, taping each side to the edge of his desk. Of  _ course _ Newton knew how Hermann operated, but teasing him about it made this hellish situation so much more bearable. He glanced at the thermometer on the wall, against his better judgement: 26.6 degrees Celsius. 

_ Fuck it.  _ Newt unbuttoned his shirt completely and yanked it out from his waistband, letting it hang loose. As he did, Hermann paused his work, closed his eyes and leaned forward over the desk. Newt watched a little too attentively as Hermann took the cuff of his left sleeve apart and rolled it neatly, letting it come to rest about halfway up his arm. With each fold, Hermann revealed more and more of himself: his bony wrist, his forearm, a tiny constellation of freckles on his elbow. Hermann repeated this process on the other arm, and Newt felt his mouth go dry. 

“Feel better?” Newt poked, but Hermann didn’t answer. “Fine, be that way.” He finally turned back to his digital modeling program and found himself totally incapable of maintaining any semblance of focus. The image of Hermann's wrist emerging from beneath his thin cotton shirt, of his hair curling almost  _ intimately _ against his temples, invaded his thoughts. The tension in his stomach tightened like someone had stuck a clock key inside him and twisted hard. 

A loud snap startled him and Hermann grumbled something to himself before throwing away the culprit -- his drafting pencil, which appeared to have broken in half lengthwise. He opened the front drawer of his desk and pulled out another one, then paused for a moment, pulling at his collar with his fingers. Newton swallowed hard, leaning forward in his chair.  _ Yeah, dude. Take it off.  _ Newt felt like a pervert peeking into a window, but for fuck’s sake, they’d worked together for almost a decade! Honestly, the fact that they hadn’t undressed in front of each other by now surprised him. 

Newt gripped the edge of his desk as Hermann began loosening buttons at his neck: one, then two, then  _ three. _ This allowed Newt to see the full column of his neck and the dip of his clavicle. He tilted his head up, trying to get a better look, but now Hermann fetched a washcloth from his desk (Jesus Christ, what  _ didn't _ he keep in there?) and poured some water from his own bottle over top of it. When sufficiently damp, Hermann leaned forward over the floor and laid it against the back of his neck, sighing audibly when the cold water hit his skin. Rivulets of water painted long strokes beneath his shirt collar, and for a moment Newt wondered what it'd be like to push his fingers under that fabric. The space between his buttons opened so wide that Newt could actually see most of Hermann's chest: pale, hairless, and very damp. 

Distraction. He needed a distraction.

“Soo, how’s the algebra coming?” Newt asked, laughing nervously as he desperately tried to break the painful tension building between himself and his lab partner. Maybe if he started a fight, he could focus on that instead of the growing tightness in his jeans. Hermann pulled the washcloth off his neck and looked up, his eyes sleepy.

“I’m not even going to grace that question with an answer.” Hermann replied, his voice groggy like he’d just woken from a nap. Newt sighed and threw his hands up. 

“Dammit, there’s no fucking way we can work in here! We might as well leave.” Then at least he could escape and go relieve himself in the relative comfort of his quarters. 

“Newton, you and I both know we cannot afford to put off our work due to discomfort. The Rangers don’t get a break, neither should we.” Newt rolled his eyes dramatically and spun his swivel chair around, staring at the ceiling. 

“Riiiight, my bad. God forbid I suggest we make ourselves comfortable.” Hermann snorted, but said nothing in reply. As the chair slowed down, Newt stripped his shirt off completely, throwing it onto Hermann’s side of the laboratory. Even in nothing but his damn wifebeater, the air oppressed him. Surprisingly, Hermann still said nothing, and Newt quickly saw the reason why: Hermann had moved to the couch and began rolling up his pant legs. Newton followed every fold of the fabric, his breath hitching in his throat as he saw the curve of his calf revealed, nestled beneath those ugly old man socks he wore.  _ Christ,  _ Newton thought, sliding his sweaty hands against his thighs.  _ For someone trying to stay decent, Hermann sure knows how to tease. _

“I do hope you don’t plan on using my space as your laundry hamper all afternoon, Newton.” Hermann called out as he rolled up his other trouser cuff, cutting a quick glance at him. Was he… was he wearing  _ sock garters?  _ Oh, of  _ course _ he was. What an old man, he thought, as if he wasn’t thinking about taking them off with his teeth. 

“Technically, it’s on the line.” Newt responded, licking his lips as Hermann laid down on the couch, fanning himself with a manila folder.  _ You know what, fuck it.  _ At this point, Newton couldn't feel any worse, and he was used to rejection. “You know, Hermann… there’s no reason we can’t at least, ah…”

“What, Newton?” Hermann let out an exasperated sigh. “I cannot think of anything I’d like to do right now except lay still.”

“Well, nobody said you  _ had  _ to do anything else.” Newt rose from his chair and made his way over to Hermann, sitting down on the open cushion. “I can...do most of the work for you.” Hermann raised an eyebrow.

“What in God’s name are you talking about, Newton Geiszler?” Newt felt his cheeks flush. Fuck, he’d made a mistake, but god _ damn _ , how could Hermann have done all that and not realized how it looked? After a moment, a look of recognition entered Hermann’s eyes. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Fuck, Hermann, come  _ on! _ Do you even know what you’re doing to me right now?!” Hermann did not immediately answer, but his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. “You… you  _ do _ know.” 

“Please, Newton. I’m not so dense as you think I am. Once you started literally salivating, I understood what effect my state of undress had on you.” Hermann sat up, swinging his legs over the cushion and leaning forward. “Now, my question for you is this: can you help me with the rest?” 

“Am I going crazy, dude? Is this some kind of fucked up fever dream?” Hermann laughed softly and moved closer, wincing as he put pressure on his sore leg. Newt could see the sweat and water still beaded on Hermann’s forehead and neck, and he wanted very much to lick it.

“I do believe we could test for that, Dr. Geiszler.” Hermann’s smirk widened as he placed his hand on the back of Newt’s damp neck. “I wonder… what parameters shall we set for this experiment?” Newt leaned close enough to feel Hermann’s breath on his lips and nudged his jaw, pushing Hermann’s head to the side. 

“Dude, I’m so hot right now, you could convince me to do anything.” Newt pressed a kiss to Hermann’s neck and felt him shiver. “By the way...parameters? You’re such a fucking nerd.” Newt gasped as Hermann put a hand around his neck, gently guiding him into a soft kiss. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Hermann whispered in his ear, grasping the hem of Newton’s tank and inching his fingers beneath it. 

“F-fuck, Hermann…” Newton arched into his touch, whimpering when Hermann found his nipples and rolled them between his fingertips. “Take it off…” Hermann obliged, pulling the shirt past Newton’s chest and over his arms, stopping short at the wrists. He twisted the shirt around his hand, wrapping Newt’s in the damp cotton fabric and holding them over his head. “Hermann? Ah, shit…” 

“Hold still.” Hermann murmured against Newton’s lips before kissing him hard, knocking the breath right out of him. Newton kissed right back, moaning into Hermann’s mouth and arching his hips against him, reaching for as much contact as possible. The temperature of the room only served to drive Newton further into a heated lust, and from the looks of his blown-out pupils and flushed cheeks, Hermann felt the same effects. He said nothing for a long while, just crushed his lips against Newton’s and explored his mouth with his tongue. 

“Hermann, I want -- ahh, wanna touch you, dude…” Newt pulled against the shirt Hermann had used to restrain him, and to Newt’s great relief, he released him. Newt pushed Hermann back into the couch cushions immediately, straddling his hips and skating his hands over everything he could reach: his chest, his arms, his abdomen. “Fuck, Hermann, holy  _ shit _ …” 

“I, mm… I concur, Newton.” Hermann smirked and slid his hands over Newton’s thighs, around his hips and to his ass, squeezing it and pulling him closer. Newt whimpered into Hermann’s mouth as he kissed him again, fumbling with his buttons. “Do you require some assistance down there?” Hermann chuckled breathlessly.

“F-fuck you, Hermann, I can do it myself.” Once he’d pushed Hermann’s button-down away, he shoved his undershirt up and kissed along his ribcage, leaving a bite here and there for good measure. Hermann groaned and lifted his hips, which Newt took as an invitation to work on his belt. 

“N-newton, wait…” 

“Wait? Dude, come on. You started this shit.” Hermann let out an exasperated sigh.

“I have no plans to withdraw, trust me. I just want to know.” He looked up at Newt from beneath his long lashes, and Newt felt his chest tighten. “Really, what exactly do you want from this? I don’t want to assume that you’re--” Newt put a finger to Hermann’s lips.

“Man, I’ve done this shit before. I’ll tell you if I’m done.” Hermann nodded, then without another word opened his mouth and took Newton’s finger into his mouth, never taking his eyes away from Newton. “Holy shit, Hermann.” Newton panted as Hermann sucked and teased his fingers with his tongue, using one hand to guide Newt’s closer to his mouth and the other to unbuckle his belt.

“Is this what you meant by making ourselves comfortable, Newton?” Hermann asked in a low voice that Newton had never heard before. 

“You know, it wasn’t? But goddamn, I do not give a fuck what I meant.” 

“ _ So  _ glad to hear it. Newton, lift up.” He complied, and Hermann pulled down on Newton's jeans, letting his cock free from the tight fabric. “Ah…” Hermann sighed and smiled, wrapping his fingers around Newton to lazily stroke him off. Newt took a sharp breath, arching into Hermann's hand. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Newt groaned and thrust himself into Hermann's hand.

“So impatient. Have you decided what you want?” Hermann teased the head of Newt's cock with his thumb, eliciting a shuddering moan. 

“Let me…” Newt moved away from Hermann reluctantly to unzip his trousers, laying his cock out on his stomach. “I'll tell you what I want.” Newt climbed over Hermann and ground against him, snugly wrapping his hand around both himself and Hermann. He leaned close, whispering in his ear. “I wanna get all over you, Hermann. If I don't, I'm gonna -- fuck, I don't know, probably explode.” 

Hermann responded by bucking up into Newton’s hand. “What a l-lovely idea, Newton.” The two scientists wrapped their arms around each other, grinding and thrusting against one another, their legs tangled together. The heat between them was almost blinding, and Newt found himself quickly gasping for air, but oh my God, everything about this made him crave more and more. He thought briefly that he could die like this, his face buried in Hermann's neck and his hands around his waist, and feel satisfied. 

“Hermann…” Newton's hips began to stutter, and he moaned loudly into Hermann's skin. “Fuck, man, I can't--” Hermann nodded and pushed Newt upright, stroking them both fast. 

“P-put your hand…” Hermann grasped Newton’s wrist and placed it beneath his own, leading it around their cocks and stroking the top with his thumb. That little gesture of affection sent Newt tumbling over the edge. As he came, he fell forward and caught himself on the arm of the couch, hovering over Hermann as he followed closely behind. He watched blearily as Hermann caught his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a rather loud moan, his brows furrowed upward and his eyelashes batting against his cheekbones. 

“Holy...shit.” Newt panted, looking around as if he’d just been slapped awake. As he did, he saw Tendo standing in the doorway of the laboratory, his cheeks red and his eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Hey.” The sound of Tendo’s voice made Hermann nearly jump off the couch. “I just wanted to -- I found this box fan in the storage closet down the hall from LOCCENT, and I figured maybe you guys would like it.” Tendo grinned, his tongue caught between his teeth in a look of pure glee. “Looks to me like, uh, the two of you are enjoying the heat though, so I’ll just sit it right here.” As Tendo sat the fan gently by the door, he gave Newt a cheesy wink. 

“ _ Thank you, Mr. Choi. Goodbye.” _ Hermann called out in a shrill voice from beneath his hands, which he’d pressed firmly to his face as if hiding it would make him disappear. 

“Hey, he’s gone, dude.” Newt pulled Hermann’s hands away and leaned closer. They’d both worked themselves into a serious sweat, and whatever clothes they’d left on hung wet on their bodies. Hermann’s cheeks and neck practically glowed red from heat and from embarrassment, and his eyes had gone a bit glassy. “Man…” He put his hand on the side of Hermann’s face. “I know you’re gonna say, ‘Dr. Geiszler, we must  _ nnnever _ speak of this again!’ but I’m gonna have to just stop you right there, because that was fucking incredible, my dude, and we are absolutely gonna talk about it again.” 

“You think you know  _ so _ much about me, Newton.” Hermann replied, his lips curling upward into an exhausted smile. “Let me up; we’d best get clean and presentable so I don’t have to walk the halls humiliated.”

“Do you have extra clothes? These stink.”

“As if yours are any better.” Hermann sniped as Newt eased himself off of Hermann and onto the concrete floor. “They’re in the cabinet behind my desk. I always keep a spare outfit or two.”

“Got it--”

“Newton.” Hermann took him by the wrist and Newt turned, his eyes roving all over Hermann. They both looked ridiculous, honestly: standing around in nothing but undershirts and boxers. Shit, Newt hadn’t even taken his boots off. 

“What? Come  _ on _ , we look awful, even for my standards.” 

“Y-yes. Of course. Never mind.” Hermann followed Newt to the showers with his clothing under his arm and his cane clacking down the hall. By the time they’d finished, the climate control system had roused itself, and Newton practically cried when he felt it blasting cool air through the hall. As he watched Hermann retreat to his quarters, Newt couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of longing course through him.  _ Whatever,  _ he shrugged it off.  _ There’s always next time something breaks in this fucking place, right? _


End file.
